Poems by Jean Ingelow, In Two Volumes, Volume I.

?The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems by Jean Ingelow, In Two Volumes, Volume I., by Jean Ingelow
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Poems by Jean Ingelow, In Two Volumes, Volume I.
Author: Jean Ingelow
Release Date: August 19, 2004 [EBook #13223]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
? START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS BY JEAN INGELOW, I. ***
Produced by Juliet Sutherland and PG Distributed Proofreaders
POEMS
BY
JEAN INGELOW
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I.
BOSTON
ROBERTS BROTHERS
1896
AUTHOR'S COMPLETE EDITION
DEDICATION
TO
GEORGE KILGOUR INGELOW
YOUR LOVING SISTER
OFFERS YOU THESE POEMS, PARTLY AS
AN EXPRESSION OF HER AFFECTION, PARTLY FOR THE
PLEASURE OF CONNECTING HER EFFORTS
WITH YOUR NAME
KENSINGTON: June, 1863
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
DIVIDED?HONORS.--PART I.?HONORS.--PART II.?REQUIESCAT IN PACE?SUPPER AT THE MILL?SCHOLAR AND CARPENTER?THE STAR'S MONUMENT?A DEAD YEAR?REFLECTIONS?THE LETTER L?THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF LINCOLNSHIRE (1571)?AFTERNOON AT A PARSONAGE?SONGS OF SEVEN?A COTTAGE IN A CHINE?PERSEPHONE?A SEA SONG?BROTHERS, AND A SERMON?A WEDDING SONG?THE FOUR BRIDGES?A MOTHER SHOWING THE PORTRAIT OF HER CHILD?STRIFE AND PEACE
THE DREAMS THAT CAME TRUE
SONGS ON THE VOICES OF BIRDS.?INTRODUCTION.--CHILD AND BOATMAN?THE NIGHTINGALE HEARD BY THE UNSATISFIED HEART?SAND MARTINS?A POET IN HIS YOUTH AND THE CUCKOO-BIRD?A RAVEN IN A WHITE CHINE?THE WARBLING OF BLACKBIRDS?SEA-MEWS IN WINTER-TIME
LAURANCE
SONGS OF THE NIGHT WATCHES.?INTRODUCTORY.--EVENING?THE FIRST WATCH.--TIRED?THE MIDDLE WATCH?THE MORNING WATCH?CONCLUDING.--EARLY DAWN
CONTRASTED SONGS.?SAILING BEYOND SEAS?REMONSTRANCE?SONG FOR THE NIGHT OF CHRIST'S RESURRECTION?SONG OF MARGARET?SONG OF THE GOING AWAY?A LILY AND A LUTE
GLADYS AND HER ISLAND
SONGS WITH PRELUDES.?WEDLOCK?REGRET?LAMENTATION?DOMINION?FRIENDSHIP
WINSTANLEY
DIVIDED.
I.
An empty sky, a world of heather,?Purple of foxglove, yellow of broom;?We two among them wading together,?Shaking out honey, treading perfume.
Crowds of bees are giddy with clover,?Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet,?Crowds of larks at their matins hang over,?Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet.
Flusheth the rise with her purple favor,?Gloweth the cleft with her golden ring,?'Twixt the two brown butterflies waver,?Lightly settle, and sleepily swing.
We two walk till the purple dieth?And short dry grass under foot is brown.?But one little streak at a distance lieth?Green like a ribbon to prank the down.
II.
Over the grass we stepped unto it,?And God He knoweth how blithe we were!?Never a voice to bid us eschew it:?Hey the green ribbon that showed so fair!
Hey the green ribbon! we kneeled beside it,?We parted the grasses dewy and sheen;?Drop over drop there filtered and slided?A tiny bright beck that trickled between.
Tinkle, tinkle, sweetly it sang to us,?Light was our talk as of fa?ry bells--?Fa?ry wedding-bells faintly rung to us?Down in their fortunate parallels.
Hand in hand, while the sun peered over,?We lapped the grass on that youngling spring;?Swept back its rushes, smoothed its clover,?And said, "Let us follow it westering."
III.
A dappled sky, a world of meadows,?Circling above us the black rooks fly?Forward, backward; lo, their dark shadows?Flit on the blossoming tapestry--
Flit on the beck, for her long grass parteth?As hair from a maid's bright eyes blown back;?And, lo, the sun like a lover darteth?His flattering smile on her wayward track.
Sing on! we sing in the glorious weather?Till one steps over the tiny strand,?So narrow, in sooth, that still together?On either brink we go hand in hand.
The beck grows wider, the hands must sever.?On either margin, our songs all done,?We move apart, while she singeth ever,?Taking the course of the stooping sun.
He prays, "Come over"--I may not follow;?I cry, "Return"--but he cannot come:?We speak, we laugh, but with voices hollow;?Our hands are hanging, our hearts are numb.
IV.
A breathing sigh, a sigh for answer,?A little talking of outward things?The careless beck is a merry dancer,?Keeping sweet time to the air she sings.
A little pain when the beck grows wider;?"Cross to me now--for her wavelets swell."?"I may not cross,"--and the voice beside her?Faintly reacheth, though heeded well.
No backward path; ah! no returning;?No second crossing that ripple's flow:?"Come to me now, for the west is burning;?Come ere it darkens;"--"Ah, no! ah, no!"
Then cries of pain, and arms outreaching--?The beck grows wider and swift and deep:?Passionate words as of one beseeching--?The loud beck drowns them; we walk, and weep.
V.
A yellow moon in splendor drooping,?A tired queen with her state oppressed,?Low by rushes and swordgrass stooping,?Lies she soft on the waves at rest.
The desert heavens have felt her sadness;?Her earth will weep her some dewy tears;?The wild beck ends her tune of gladness,?And goeth stilly as soul that fears.
We two walk on in our grassy places?On either marge of the moonlit flood,?With the moon's own sadness in our faces,?Where joy is withered, blossom and bud.
VI.
A shady freshness, chafers whirring,?A little piping of leaf-hid birds;?A flutter of wings, a fitful stirring,?A cloud to the eastward snowy as curds.
Bare grassy slopes, where kids are tethered?Round valleys like nests all ferny-lined;?Round hills, with fluttering tree-tops feathered,?Swell high in their freckled robes behind.
A rose-flush tender, a thrill, a quiver,?When golden gleams to